


The last puzzle piece

by Captain_Mercurian



Series: So what do I do with this? [5]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Credence is safe, M/M, Newt finally introduces himself, Newt isn't good with people, The Niffler is asleep for once, and very much confused, for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:13:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8877346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Mercurian/pseuds/Captain_Mercurian
Summary: “Ma' did it.”His voice had been so quiet, barely a breath, that he wondered if he had been heard at all but then the man's mouth tensed and there was something indescribable filling his eyes as he looked at him. Credence didn't understand. He didn't understand what that expression meant and yet, something broke loose in his chest because someone was listening.





	

No bell woke Credence up, no horrifying dream made him startle out of his sleep – This time, when he opened his eyes, lids heavy and lashes sticky, he did so all by himself. Feeling pleasantly warm, he found his body to be gloriously relaxed and his mind still a little foggy. Languidly, he stretched himself, hands touching the headboard of a wooden bed, stiff spine cracking a little and toes curling. It felt so good that he contemplated whether or not he should close his eyes and sleep just a little longer...

 

That was when he realized that something was terribly, _terribly_ wrong.

 

Truly awakening with a start, he shot up, almost falling out of the incredibly comfortable but very much unfamiliar bed but managing to clutch the headboard just in time. His breath hitched and his body froze all over in panic and no matter how hard he tried to look and find out where he was, he couldn't see as his vision was foggy, his eyes glazed over. He wanted to scream, wanted to cry, but his throat felt tight enough to make him choke.

And suddenly, there were hands.

 

“Hush, it's okay,” a soft voice whispered, while warm fingers rubbed Credence's achingly tense arms in a soothing manner. Oh. He _knew_ that voice. “It'll be over in a jiffy, just _breathe_...”

Gentle fingers touched his throat, stroking the skin just above his Adam's apple and just like that, Credence sucked in as much air as he could. He was heaving like a dying man, but he was breathing and slowly, he could feel his own body again. Warm salty tears were streaming down his face and he blinked furiously, trying to regain sight, as the stranger dabbed his cheeks with something soft.

“You're doing great, Credence,” the man praised and he hiccuped miserably, shaking his head. “In and out – Easy, right? In and out, you're doing so well...”  
  
As breathing started to become easier, so did sobbing. He felt like an idiot but he couldn't help himself. This whole situation was so foreign, frightening and confusing as he didn't know where he was or how he got there... and then he remembered.

 

 _'Somnus!'_ the man had said, pointing a wand at him-

 

“Y-you-”, his voice cracked, his throat feeling raw and dry. “You're a-a... a w-wichter-”

The soothing hands on his arms stilled for a moment.

“Y-you c-cursed me-” Credence blubbered out, trying to free himself from the man's grip, kicking the blankets off his legs. The moment, he was let go of, he tumbled to the ground, out of the bed and away from the _witcher_. His vision returned with a start and he finally saw the stranger, awkwardly sitting on the mattress, hands in the air as if he was still holding him. Pale eyes stared at him with an expression that was so close to heartbreak that Credence now felt more confused than scared.

Slowly, the man lowered his hands, letting them fall to his lap and lie there limply.

 

“I... I am terribly sorry for frightening you,” he said softly and looked incredibly sincere doing so, as if the thought alone hurt him. “I just... I didn't know what else to do.” Something about that sentence, maybe the helplessness or the gentle sound of his voice, made his fear melt away completely. “I- Well, I am not good with people.”

 _Neither am I_ , he thought but he didn't say it. The witcher looked just as lost and confused as Credence felt and something about that was incredibly comforting to him. Gulping, he sat up a little straighter, his legs feeling a little wobbly. He noticed just then that he wasn't wearing his own clothes, instead, he was clad in soft, loose pants and a light blue shirt.

 

The stranger seemed to notice and stood up. “Your clothes are right here,” he said and pointed to an old wooden blanket box right at the end of the bed. “I didn't have time to clean them yet - very sorry about that – so, I'll just... um... you don't mind if I use a cleaning-charm, I hope? I am afraid, I am terrible at washing by hand.”

Looking at his own clothes lying in a messy pile, his dress shirt stained with dried blood, he shook his head.  
“I don't mind,” he whispered, still sitting on the floor, and looking back at the witch. A small, relieved smile found the man's lips but disappeared just a second after, just like the gaze out of blue eyes that was quickly directed at the pile of garments. Somehow, that made Credence's stomach turn over. Before the leaflet-incident the stranger's smile had been soft and warm and-

 

The leaflet-incident. _The leaflets_.

 

Realization hit him like a bucket of cold water, as his mind replayed the scene over and over in his head; the very moment the man's face had closed off in a matter of seconds. He had asked a witcher to join an organization determined to destroy Witchcraft and therefore kill everyone who practiced it. _Because, of course_ , _he had_.

As the puzzle pieces came together, he felt his cheeks heat up with shame and his insides clench almost violently. Now, the stranger didn't think he was a lunatic – No, no, he thought Credence was a religious, obtrusive _witch-hunter_.

The urge to apologize and explain himself bubbled up inside him but his throat felt constricted and all he managed was a squeaky high-pitched noise that made the reddening of his cheeks even worse.

 

Luckily, the man didn't seem to notice as he rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, letting its untucked rim fall completely over his slender hips as he pulled a wand out of his waistband. Clearing his throat, he pointed it at the pile of clothes and mumbled something that sounded like “ _Scourgify_ “. Credence felt his jaw drop the moment his clothes levitated into the air, whirled inside an invisible ball and then found their way back to the blanket box, neatly folded and apparently very much clean. Staring at the garments, Credence slowly crawled towards them and very cautiously reached out for them as if afraid that he'd be cursed the moment he touched the fabric.

Especially entranced by the white shirt, he thought that if he knew how to use that spell, blood wouldn't be that hard to wash out anymore.

 

 

“Credence,” the man gently said and he flinched hard, retracting his hand as if he was burned. Not daring to look at the witcher, he had offended more than once without even realizing, he decided to stare at his hands instead – His hands, that weren't bleeding anymore. Blinking, he touched his palms, which were completely healed, but still incredibly scarred.

“Credence,” the stranger tried again, even softer this time, and apparently waited for allowance to continue. He nodded. “I know you aren't very fond of magic,” _No, no, no, it's not like that_ \- “and I am terribly sorry that I've scared you. It wasn't my intention.”

He nodded.

“I- Well, I wanted to ask you something but you don't have to answer, if you don't want to, it's none of my business, I guess, even though I feel like it kind of is but please don't feel obligated to answer, I won't do you any harm, I swear, I-” Credence slowly lifted his gaze and the man's rumbling came to an abrupt end as their eyes met again, properly this time. The man closed his mouth and after a moment of seemingly infinite silence, he softly whispered:  
  
“Who did it?”

 

There was no need to ask what “it” meant. His breath hitched and his body tensed as he felt a wave of vein-freezing fear wash over him... just before his blood seemed to boil from _anger_ and _hatred_. He could feel mother's whips at that very moment, could see her stone-cold eyes looking at him, her sharp voice tell him how worthless he was, how he was nothing but trouble, how he should be grateful that she was kind enough to put up with him, to provide food and clothes and an education when _clearly_ , he deserved nothing of it.

Without even noticing it, his fingers had curled into a fist, trembling, knuckles white, as he resumed to stare into those warm eyes, trying to push away the memory of her. His jaw was so tense that he couldn't even open his mouth, so he forced himself to relax just enough to let his dry lips part the tiniest bit.

 

“Ma' did it.”

 

His voice had been so quiet, barely a breath, that he wondered if he had been heard at all but then the man's mouth tensed and there was something indescribable filling his eyes as he looked at him. Credence didn't understand. He didn't understand what that expression meant and yet, something broke loose in his chest because _he was listening_.

 

“Ma' did it,” he repeated, louder this time, voice shaking and fists clenching even more, “and then she locked me in the attic b-because I went to talk to you, Sir.” Blue eyes widened in surprise and that's when Credence lost all control over this tongue.

“She always hits me when I am being rebellious and she doesn't like me talking to strangers much, when it's not to spread her stupid leaflets and she doesn't like me coming home with a bloody nose when kids punch me, because blood is hard to wash out and she was mad at me anyway because she caught me throwing away leaflets when I was looking for you, Sir, so she locked me in the attic and then I ran away and when I saw your cat-”

 

He paused.

 

“The cat,” he breathed, his memory filling out slowly. “The _duck_.”

Apparently, the sudden change of topic caught the stranger off guard but then he seemed to catch on and he almost jumped to a wooden door – That was when Credence finally looked around to take in his surroundings. It seemed to be a small wooden hut, furnished with nothing more than a bed, two chairs (one of which missed a leg), a closet (which missed a door and let Credence take a peak at the colorful garments hanging there) and a dusty mirror.

Slowly, Credence stood up and crept to the wooden door, following the stranger outside. Pushing it open carefully, a completely unfamiliar smell hit his nose and as he blinked, he couldn't believe his own eyes.

 

There was an entire forest. A _forest_. In _New York_.

 

His brain seemed to have shut itself down as he stared at the green idyllic picture laid out before him, utterly and completely awestruck... until something touched his leg.

 

“Ah, I see, you're already acquainting yourself with Humbert,” the stranger said but Credence didn't dare turn to look at him as he watched a _furry, lilac_ _snake_ curling around his leg. “Don't worry, he's not dangerous if not provoced.”

 _Humbert_ , he thought with a hint of panic and again, there was this gurgling noise of amusement leaving his own mouth. _He named the thing_ Humbert.

“Not dangerous,” Credence repeated a little hysterically and felt like he was about to faint as it crawled up his leg, staring at him out of black eyes that reminded him of the buttons on mother's jacket.

 

“Humbert, _no_ , behave yourself!” the man said, voice stern as he came closer and the snake actually let go of his leg and slithered away from him and back into the forest. He wanted to ask where they where and how they got here just when he turned to the stranger and saw a familiar figure lying in his arms like a newborn baby. His lips parted and he found himself rendered speechless as he stared at the sleeping ball of black fur that had gotten him here in the first place.

“This,” he proclaimed, voice filled with pride as he stepped closer to Credence, “is a _Niffler_.”

“A rare Norwegian breed of duck,” he cited as he remembered their kind of awkward conversation in the alley way, though, now that he was looking at it properly, it looked even less like a duck than it did back then. There was a clearly uncomfortable cough and Credence looked back up at the stranger, who stared at Credence's collar with a sheepish half-grin.

 

“I made that up,” he confirmed his suspicion and licked his lips nervously. “Sorry about that.”

Lowering his gaze back to the Niffler(?), he simply nodded, thoughts racing inside his head.

So, in conclusion, this was some sort of magical creature, just like the snake had been, and the stranger was a witcher and they were standing in a forest he had never heard of, Credence clad in pajamas and apparently this was his life now.

He could hardly complain.

 

“I wanted to thank you.”

 

His gaze shot up and he stared at blue, warm eyes and a kind smile and millions of freckles with nothing but overwhelming confusion. “Thank me?” Credence asked absolutely confused, blinking and suppressing the urge to move away from him.”W-what for?”

“For trying to protect him,” the stranger elaborated as if it had been obvious and there was a twinkle in his eyes as his smile turned just a little bit brighter, revealing white teeth and making Credence's knees turn wobbly. “Even though you must have been in horrible pain, you still tried.” At that, he felt his cheeks heat up immediately and he lowered his gaze. ”You are very brave, Credence.”

 

No one had ever called him brave before.

 

The stranger waited a moment but when no answer followed, he continued: “And I also wanted to apologize for going so rough on you. I thought you were going to hand him over to the New Salem as evidence for Witchcraft.”

 

That was the final puzzle piece he had needed and as he looked up again, he felt his heart race in his chest and hope light up even the darkest parts of his mind.

 

“Oh!” the stranger suddenly blurted out, rearranging the Niffler in his arms to hold out his hand for him.

 

“My name is Newt Scamander, by the way.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am not really happy with this part but I had one hell of a week, so I am very sorry about that! I hope you guys still enjoy it and I promise I'll do better with part 6!


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